The Dragon's Egg

by Pauline M. Ross

  But I couldn’t answer her. It was a question occupying my mind rather, too.

  The noon meal was bread and water, but we did better in the evening – a thick vegetable stew, with bowls and spoons, thankfully, and fresh bread. It was galling to have no meat, when we’d spent hours stacking barrels of the stuff, but I was grateful for something hot and fresh. I slept well, until my bruises woke me in the small hours. After that, I took over the watch from Mikah, but nothing happened, and Drusinaar kept to her bed all night.

  The next day was much the same, except that Mikah and I were sweeping floors, and later scrubbing vegetables. Wherever I was, there Kestimar would be, too, glaring belligerently at me, abusing me with insults every chance he got, but forbidden from all the really exciting things he’d like to do to me, involving a sharp knife.

  “Whatever did you do to make him hate you so much?” Mikah said, when Kestimar had finally been dragged away from watching me wash carrots.

  “I told you, I tossed him overboard. He didn’t like it very much.”

  “There must be more to it than that. I can’t believe you’d really do anything like that.”

  “Well, you don’t know me very well, then.”

  He fell silent, and when I glanced at him, his face was taut with dismay. He looked as if he’d burst into tears at any moment. I heaved a deep sigh, and put down the carrot I was holding. I’d always known he had a childish admiration for me, but I’d never guessed he was living in quite such a fantasy world.

  “Mikah,” I said gently, “I’m not a good person. I never have been. Do you want to know how I met Kestimar? We’d both been convicted of crimes. He killed a man, so he says, and I’ve never seen any reason to doubt it. I cheated people playing bones. That was how I made my living, until someone called me on it. I ended up living amongst the scum of society – murderers, rapists, thieves, you name it. Kestimar took me under his wing, and when the Karningplain melted into anarchy, I left with him and Tella.”

  “You went to Bennamore,” Mikah said.

  “We did,” I said. I wondered how he knew that, since I didn’t remember talking to him about it. Well, it was no secret. “Anyway, my talent with the bones came in very handy there. Then we moved to the southern coast, where I didn’t need to gamble to eat, so I became a spy, wheedling my way into friendships with honest folk to find out what they knew, or to plant false information. I did pretty much whatever Kestimar asked of me, legal or not. Mostly not. But we fell out – over Tella, if you want to know – and when I saw a chance, I tried to get rid of him for good. I don’t blame him for being pissed about it. And when it didn’t work, I ran away. So don’t get any fancy ideas about me.”

  “But you’re not like that now,” he said, his mouth tight. “You’ve left all that behind. Haven’t you? You’re a good person underneath, and whatever you may have done in the past, it’s finished.”

  “Only for as long as it suits me.”

  “I don’t believe you!” he said fiercely. “You’ve always been kind to me.”

  “That was my job at the Keep,” I said wearily. “Trust me, I don’t care two bits for you or anyone but myself.”

  He flushed to the roots of his hair, and turned back to the mountain of vegetables with energy.

  ~~~~~

  For several days we were kept busy, one way or another. Zarin, Shakara and the priest grumbled about it. Drusinaar did whatever she was asked to do, without complaint. She was a hard worker, but I suppose growing up in a holding, she was bound to be. Mikah volunteered to help his new friend, the skinny boy, and after a day or two, he disappeared altogether, even at night. I caught sight of him once or twice in the training yard, but he pointedly ignored me.

  Apart from being locked in at night, we were actually treated rather well. The food improved each day, and the chores we were given weren’t particularly tough.

  “This is better than being sold into slavery,” Zarin said brightly.

  I wasn’t too sure about that. Twice more Kestimar amused himself by defeating me soundly at swordplay. I was getting more adept at avoiding him, but I still ended up bruised in a hundred different places each time. I also learned to be careful what I said to him. During one session, Tella appeared in the training yard leading the dragon boy by the hand.

  “Look, there’s your son,” I said, hoping to distract him long enough to register a hit on my own account.

  Instead, he took such a heavy swing at me, using both hands, that my head was spinning for a while. When I thought back on it afterwards – the violent reaction, and his face even redder than usual – it crossed my mind that perhaps the boy wasn’t his after all. I began to wonder exactly how old he was.

  One afternoon, Tella found me in the kitchen store-rooms, stowing sacks of grain brought up from the cellar.

  “Walk with me,” she said.

  Warily, I followed her. She seemed calm enough, but her moods were always volatile. She led me through a maze of corridors, and then out of a side door into the gardens, or what was left of them. There were paths meandering through the wilderness, and she followed one as it wound about, the overgrown shrubs towering over our heads. It was quiet out there, even the distant murmur of the sea muted. We could have been a thousand miles from civilisation.

  “This reminds me of the plains,” she said after a while. “Those great, tall grasses. Do you remember?”

  She’d switched to Kashinorian, and Gods, it made me quite sentimental to hear the sounds of home again. I’d become so used to foreign talk all round me, it was wonderful to fall back into the familiar rhythms.

  “It’s not the grass I remember most about those days.”

  She looked at me sideways, her head tilted seductively to one side. I don’t think she even knew she was doing it, it was such a deeply rooted habit. She must have been getting close to fifty, but she hadn’t lost her ability to inspire a very physical response in me.

  “What do you remember about them?”

  “Anger. I was angry all the time. I’d had such a good life, and it was snatched away from me.”

  “What life did you have?” she said sharply, her eyes narrowing. “You were a professional cheat, Garrett. You got what you deserved. Whereas I… Well, no matter. Old history.”

  She fell silent, and I’d never been one to risk her displeasure by chattering unnecessarily, so we walked on side by side, saying nothing. Gods, but it took me back to be with her again. She’d livened up my misery when I’d thought everything worthwhile had been taken away from me. Even my peculiar ability to see through other eyes had vanished when I’d been exiled, and lived on the open plains. Only when I’d moved beyond the Plains of Kallanash had it returned to me, clearer than ever. Tella had made good use of it then, and I’d enjoyed her gratitude.

  We’d been walking quite briskly, but now the path began to rise and our pace slowed. Here and there a branch or moonrose stem leaned drunkenly across our way, and we had to detour off the path, our feet crunching on last year’s dead leaves. Tella wore a more practical gown of fine wool today, the delicate silk presumably only brought out to impress new arrivals. Her skirts swished as she walked, her long legs keeping pace with my strides.

  It was the first time I’d been alone with her, and the opportunity to ask questions was too good to waste. So when she turned her head and smiled a little, I took the chance. “The boy,” I said. “Your son. How old is he?”

  She laughed, then, her face alight with mischief. “He will be six in one moon from now, but I will spare you the counting – he’s yours.”

  “Well. That’s… a surprise. For both of us. I’d thought…”

  “Quite. I was told very clearly that I would have no more children. But perhaps it is like your special ability – things change away from the plains.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it was being holed up in those dragon tunnels all winter.”

  “That is possible,” she said gravely. Then her eyes twinkled. “I am sure Ruell has drag
on blood in him, he has such an affinity for them. Whatever happened, he has been a great delight to me. Who would ever have thought I would find any pleasure in motherhood? But so it is.”

  “Then I am very happy for you,” I said, and meant it. I liked this new, mellower Tella very well. “He seems— Oh!”

  We emerged abruptly in front of a small stone pavilion, perfectly round, with a domed roof topped with a statue of a woman in flowing robes. The symmetry was striking, after the bizarre assembly of styles in the main building.

  Tella laughed at my astonishment. “I call this place the Handmaiden’s Temple,” she said, leading the way up a set of curved marble steps and pushing open the door. The inside was full of light, with painted glass windows throwing a mosaic of colour across the white tiled floor. Around the edge of the room, marble benches were strewn with cushions. In the centre another statue spilled water from a ewer into a curving pool which steamed a little.

  “A bathing pool?” It seemed such a bizarre thing to find here, but then the whole palace was strange, the work of long-dead builders for reasons of their own.

  She nodded. “I have no idea how the water stays hot, but it does. This is my private place. No one dares to come here, except by my invitation. So you may relax, soak in the pool. There is soap on the side, and towels over there.”

  I couldn’t resist. I’d not had a decent bath since we’d left the Keep. I had my clothes off and was blissfully immersed almost before she’d finished speaking. I soaked, then scrubbed the layers of dirt off, setting every bruise screaming but not caring, then I soaked some more.

  Lying back with my eyes closed, I was vaguely aware that Tella was in the water too. That raised certain expectations, but I didn’t move an eyelash. I knew better than to push my luck with her. If she had plans in that direction, I would find out soon enough.

  “The slaver we deal with will be here in a couple of days,” she said. That was not quite how I’d hoped things would progress, but I said nothing. “The boy – Mikah – has already indicated that he wants to stay here. The girl, Drusinaar – she’s useful so she can stay, too. And there will be a place for you, if you want it. But the others – I have no use for them. The woman would only be trouble. The scholar has no practical skills at all. And I have no more time for priests than you do. So they will go to the slaver.”

  “What about the crew of the ship?”

  “We can sell them with the ship, as workers not slaves. We’ll get a good price, too. They will be fine. What about it, Garrett? Will you stay?”

  “With Kestimar looking for an excuse to feed my entrails to the birds? I don’t think so.”

  “Pfft. I can deal with Kestimar.”

  I remembered the last time she’d said that. “Sell him to the slavers, and I’ll stay.”

  She laughed at me. “You still have the cheek of all the Demons. No. Kestimar stays. I can keep him under control.”

  “Like you did at Dristomar? We had a comfortable little arrangement there, but Kestimar screwed things up for all of us, trying to kill the mages. And with swords! They’re not that easy to kill, and he should have known that.”

  “Really? Even mages aren’t immortal. Are they?”

  “No, of course not. But they’re resistant to most things. They can heal themselves, for one thing. It took a crossbow bolt through the heart to finish the one in Bennamore. Kestimar should have remembered that. But he was always rushing in without thinking things through. So thank you for the offer, but no.”

  A long pause. Then, in softer tones, “What about Ruell? Your son? Would you stay for him? He needs a father.”

  That gave me pause. My son. As far as I knew, he was the only child I’d ever fathered, although I’d spread myself around so much over the years, it wouldn’t have surprised me if there were a score of little Garretts running about the plains, or Bennamore. I’d often wondered what would have happened if one of my women had come to me with a babe in her belly. Would I have settled down to family life? A part of me yearned for that kind of stability, the comfort of knowing there was a woman always waiting at home for me, surrounded by children who looked a bit like me, and a bit like her, watching them grow as the seasons changed. To live like normal people do – what a wonderful prospect.

  And yet – boring, too. The certainty of it, the regularity. Never having the thrill of taking a chance, doing something outrageous, moving on to a new place and starting again. It was selfish of me, perhaps, but I liked having no ties. Even though a part of me wanted to stay with my son, to help raise him, to teach him better ways than he’d learn from Kestimar, I still hadn’t tired of my roving.

  Besides, I had a task to complete, and I couldn’t do it by hiding away here with Tella. I had no quarrel with her keeping Mikah. He’d wanted to be a raider right from the start, and it was a better deal for him than slavery. But Drusinaar… I didn’t like the thought of leaving her here with Kestimar. Sooner or later, she would say or do something odd… There was the fire, too, and the business with the locked door. Who knew what else she might be capable of? Some stubborn part of me wanted her to have the chance to find out.

  So I said, “Tempting, but I have a job to do. I have to take Drusinaar to some people who can help her.”

  “Help her… how?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. She’s… weird.”

  “Slightly odd, the game she played with Ruell, but she seems harmless.”

  “I’m not sure that she is. She was brought to the Guardian because she produced flames from her fingers. And… she came out of a dragon egg.”

  Tella gaped at me, then burst out laughing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Garrett! But there is something unsettling about her, so you can have her, if you want. Then, if she turns out to be a mage and starts pulling the moon down, you can be the one to put a crossbow bolt through her heart.”

  She laughed at the idea, and I laughed, too. Drusinaar had some sort of power, but it was nothing like the mages of old, who rode dragons and reshaped the earth.

  Tella went on, “She can go to the slaver, then, with the others. And you, too, if you insist. I’d rather you stayed, but I’ve never wanted any man enough to beg, especially one who’d rather be a slave than warm my bed.”

  “I don’t intend to be a slave for long,” I said. “Especially since slavery is illegal.”

  “It’s called bonded servitude, and it’s perfectly legal. Or it was. There have been changes lately. But if you want to take your chance, I won’t stop you. Krahn Hreth isn’t a nice man, so you don’t want to get cheeky with him. But he won’t mistreat you, and he loves to play the bones, so that gives you an opportunity. He will let you play for your freedom, and with your talent, you ought to be able to win.”

  “Ah!” Now that had distinct possibilities.

  “And now that that’s settled,” she said, “you can come over here and fuck me one last time.”

  That was more like it. “Always happy to oblige, Majesty.”

  12: The Slaver's Ship (Shakara)

  Shakara decided that the slaver was the most ill-favoured man she had ever seen. Sallow-skinned and scrawny, with a huge hooked nose and a shock of black hair, he looked like a giant chicken. The strangely slashed clothes and strings of feathers he wore did nothing to counter the effect. He claimed to be some kind of prince, but it was hard to believe. The only sign of wealth was a jade ring on one finger. Still, he had a certain presence, and she admired that in a man.

  Krahn Hreth eyed each of them up and down as if they were prize cattle. Under Kestimar’s watchful gaze, he walked slowly up the line, tapping his leg with the butt of a spear ornamented with dangling feathers. Then he walked slowly back down. Apart from the five of them, there were three of the crew from their ship who had managed to get on the wrong side of Kestimar and were now to become slaves, too. One of them, a boy of no more than twelve, sobbed quietly. An older man and woman stood either side of him, grim-faced.

  Shakara could hardly believe
this was happening. She had imagined such bleak days were far in her past. Perhaps she should have been terrified, but somehow none of it felt real. Her rational mind was certain that she was dreaming, and would wake up at any moment to find the chamber girl waiting with hot wine, and a basin of scented water for her to wash in.

  The slaver stopped in front of Shakara. “I like this one,” he said, leering at her. At least his accent was softer than Kestimar’s. “She will fetch a good price. My customers like a woman with a bit of flesh. I will be able to place her very easily.” Shakara lowered her eyes and turned her face away, but he just laughed. “Ah, a little spirit, too! Excellent!”

  He moved on to Dru. “This one – not so interesting to me.”

  “She’s a good worker,” Kestimar said.

  “So you say, but thin! Too thin. I cannot give you full price for her. This one…” He moved on to Garrett. “This is more like it. A man in his prime – a little short, perhaps, but well-built. I might be able to find a buyer for him. But these two!” He gestured towards Zarin and the Lath. “What are they good for?”

  “They can read and write,” Kestimar said.

  “Pfft! My customers have secretaries already. I will take them, if you want to be rid of them, but only half the usual price.” He passed on to the crew. “Now these… these two look like good workers. I will take them, and the boy too, if he stops snivelling.”

  While Kestimar haggled over the price, the slaver’s subordinates fitted shackles on all of them, both hands and feet.

  The agreed price paid, Krahn Hreth looked over his new property with a chilling smile. “Well, my fine slaves, do not look so anxious. However your new owners may treat you, I have a very clear policy – no one on my ships is permitted to mess about with the merchandise. My customers like their purchases to be… um, unspoiled, so as long as you behave yourselves, you have nothing to fear.”

  Shakara was not reassured.

  They were led back to their tower rooms for one last night.

  “We must be very careful from now on,” Garrett said. “For all his fine words, this Krahn Hreth is an evil sod, who would think nothing of tossing us overboard if we give him any trouble. He owns us, down to the last eyelash, so we must keep our heads down.”